


Second Person Problems (This Time It's You)

by ThroughTheTulips



Series: I don't think that means what you think it means [8]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Culture, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Implied Violence, Kidnapping, M/M, Other, derek and stiles cannot agree on baby names to save their lives, small furry babies in temporary danger but it works out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-23 22:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19160452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThroughTheTulips/pseuds/ThroughTheTulips
Summary: Maybe Stiles brought a lot of chaos to Derek's world, but let's not forget that Derek was getting up to shenanigans long before setting foot on Beacon. Sometimes this stuff is his fault.





	Second Person Problems (This Time It's You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vulnera_Sanentur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vulnera_Sanentur/gifts), [alicat54c](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alicat54c/gifts).



> I'm not 100% happy with where this ends, but people kept commenting and I suddenly realized how long it had been since I updated. You may all thank Vulnera_Sanentur and alicat54c for the reminders (or blame them, your call. I'm not your mom.)
> 
> Also, I spent the past year wondering what Derek and Stiles would name their children and decided literally the way they do in this story, so enjoy. Hopefully the next chapter won't take quite this long.

“No.”

Stiles pouted, tail lashing behind him. He craned his nose away from the nursing triplets to reach the touchscreen. “They’re traditional Tau’ri names. Jack said-”

“Jack was joking, Stiles,” Derek said in exasperation. “We aren’t naming them Han, Luke, and Leia. Those are characters from a movie, Han is a boy’s name on Earth, and Han and Leia get _married_.”

“Movies are an important part of Tau’ri culture,” the tenass chuffed, ignoring the other arguments. “Do you not like the names?”

Derek resisted the urge to roll his eyes, because that was not the point. “They’re fine, but Stiles, you haven’t even seen _Star Wars_. What if you hate it?”

“Easy. We watch. If I like it we use the names. Deal?”

It was really hard to refuse Stiles when stress pheromones were starting to color the room, but the thought of what Laura would say if he gave his children _Star Wars_ names made him dig in. She teased Stiles enough, she didn’t need more ammunition. The man bent to stroke his husband’s head. “I don’t want the other crew to make fun of them, okay? Let’s think of something else.”

Stiles vented his feelings by vigorously bathing one of the kits until she squeaked in protest. “They need names, Derek. Soon.”

“I know.”

He did know. Scott, Stiles, and Lydia had all brought up that Beaconite tradition more than once. Babies born to tenassi shifted as soon as their parent first shifted back after birth, a week at the latest. It was bad luck of the worst kind for them to do so without a name. Even the lossalon-born were named within a week. With the children nameless, Stiles was essentially stuck in his Soulform to avoid bringing Unspeakable Doom on them.

Derek found it strange that a technologically advanced people were so superstitious- but also kind of charming. His family had never been big on traditions, even before there were so few Hales to carry them out. Now, through Stiles’ enthusiastic tutelage, Derek was finding meaning in what should have been pointless rituals.

Even so, they’d been bickering over names for most of three days.

There were two girls and a boy. Derek had been taken aback by the variety in their Birthforms. The eldest was some kind of feline with a mottled coat that wasn’t really one color or another yet. Her brother, the middle one, looked like the baby fox pictures Derek had secretly googled to prepare himself. Baby Girl was just different enough from the boy that she’d probably wind up being a dog or maybe a dark-colored wolf.

“Shouldn’t they all be foxes?” he’d asked Scott worriedly at the birth. “Like Stiles? Did I- are they messed up because I’m human?”

Scott had given him a tolerant look over Stiles’ panting body. “Soulforms aren’t always genetic. Besides, you can’t mess them up. If you weren’t suitable for interbreeding you wouldn’t have responded to Stiles’ gramoret, or he wouldn’t have gotten pregnant.”

That was both weird and comforting.

Now, watching the oldest break away from Stiles’ grooming to nose around towards him, Derek enjoyed another weird and comforting thing: his instant acceptance of the kits as his children. Before the triplets were born he’d braced himself for a period of detachment until they changed to a human shape. It seemed ridiculous that he would look at a furry face and feel paternal- but he did. He loved this ball of fluff with everything he had in him.

Even if she _had_ just peed on his hand.

“Dr. Hale?” Sam’s voice on the intercom drew Derek’s attention from frantically applying yet another coat of hand sanitizer. “Scott says they’re awake and we can see them. I’m there now if you want to come over.”

He clutched his daughter a little closer, torn. Stiles made the chirping sound that meant encouragement and tapped the tablet. “Go see Laura. We’re fine here.”

“Here” was a hastily upgraded biohazard containment room at the SGC. Post-natal micret was so powerful that General Landry had taken one look at the kits and sat right down on the floor to admire them, along with his entire security detail. There’d been baby talk in three different languages.

Once an embarrassed Stiles managed to dial it back a bit everyone had agreed on the need for precautions, just until the _Daedelus_ returned. Scott agreed on the condition that they go straight to Beacon, where he could get advice on how to handle the newly changed Laura and Daniel. Apparently he wasn’t sure how the Stargate would affect the newly-changed and didn’t want to risk anything. He did make a quick call to Atlantis to pass a message off to his friends on Beacon, who needed to talk to Naya for advice.  

At least Stiles was okay being contained now that the kits had been born. He’d made a little den for them under the bed. Derek was fairly certain at least two of his shirts were in there.

“I’ll have my radio on me,” Derek promised as he set his daughter back on the ground. “Call me if you need anything. Or if they need anything. Or if you get bored. Or-” He caught the indulgent grin on Stiles’ face and stopped, flushing. “Right. I’m going. Just- be careful.”

Which was a stupid thing to say considering that Stiles was tucked into the most secure room in America’s most secure facility with two alert guards waiting outside the door, but Derek was a new father. He was allowed to be a little stupid.

Probably.

The moment of embarrassment slid away as he showed his badge to the guards at the next room over. Scott had literally carried Laura and Daniel in here when they’d arrived back at the SGC and insisted on isolation.

“It’s gonna be hard on them,” Scott told them earnestly. “Waking up, I mean. I’m their Comus now, they need to have my scent to reassure them or they could lose control.”

Derek really hoped that didn’t mean he was peeing on them. Just in case, he didn’t ask.

No one else argued with Scott’s orders. They all remembered the raw power of his Soulform. Even those who weren’t there had seen the remains of the Russian mercenaries. What was left of the leader had filled a single bucket. Not even a particularly large one.

Scott hadn’t eaten in the three days they’d been here, and no one was asking about that either.

The caless who met Derek at the door now was the same friendly healer he was used to, though. Scott clasped his friend’s shoulder, doing the weird little upswipe that was scenting for Beaconites. “Hey, man! Come on in, Laura’s been asking about you guys.”

Derek looked past him. There was no furniture in the room at all. Instead, a pile of futons and pillows covered in a metric ton of gray wool blankets was arranged in the middle of the floor. Daniel and Laura sat against pillows, looking tired but whole. Completely unharmed.

Tears stung Derek’s eyes. He swallowed hard. “Hey, Laura! Welcome back.”

She flinched like he’d slapped her. “Whoa, ouch. No need to scream at me.”

“I wasn’t-” He remembered Stiles complaining about having to learn to adjust to loud Tau’ri spaces and lowered his voice. “Sorry. I didn’t know how soon all the- extra stuff would kick in.”

“Some of it now, some of it after runarol,” Scott said. He hovered weirdly, eyes flicking between Derek and where Sam sat by Daniel. “This is why they’re supposed to be on Beacon. We have special places for this, where everyone knows to be quiet. I mean we usually use them for runarol but it works for this, too.”

Sam looked up from the notebook she’d been showing her friend. “Oh, I forgot! I actually came down to tell you the _Daedalus_ is in range. They need about eight hours to resupply so we can leave in the morning. We just need your coordinates for Beacon.”

“Stiles will know.” As if he couldn’t help himself, the caless squeezed between Sam and Daniel. He repositioned the notebook on his own lap, close enough that both could see but using his bulk as a shield for the anthropologist.

“Did I do something wrong?,” Sam wondered. “Are we not supposed to touch?”

He blushed. “Sorry! Just- I know you want to scent him because it’s been days and all, but you’re not cultasi and my instincts are a little on edge right now.”

“Cultasi,” Laura repeated. “From cultas. You were explaining that. It’s like a pack, right?”

Scott frowned, but Daniel spoke before he could. “More like a squad, or a small clan. Basically, it’s a group of Beaconites under a caless who share protection and friendship.” His eyes were glowing with excitement- literally glowing a soft blue, which he didn’t seem to notice. “There’s a hormonal bond which gives them some defense against the micret of their fellow cultasi, and they can track each other across very long distances. I’m guessing that’s in case they get separated during an attack or something.”

That got a smile from Scott. “Yeah! You’re really smart, dude, you’re going to love the library on Beacon. Lydia can help you use it.”

“Wait.” Derek was stuck on something else. “Does this mean I can’t hug my own sister?”

The caless tilted his head. “You’re Stiles’ duca. You’re already cultasi.”

“I am?”

“Don’t you remember how it was okay for me to touch him when he was pregnant? How you feel better if I’m around Stiles when you can’t be, and how you weren’t scared of me shifted? Plus I scent you, like, all the time. I don’t do that outside the cultas.”

Stunned, Derek thought back. It was true. He _had_ been nervous back in the warehouse when he heard the howl, but as soon as he realized it was Scott the fear had dissolved. Even when the caless was covered in blood Derek had barely registered it.

And Scott _was_ really touchy, but only with Stiles and Derek. He barely shook hands with anyone else outside of the practice courts.

“I am an idiot,” Derek said out loud. He impulsively moved closer to rub Laura’s arm like Stiles and Scott did to each other.

She blinked, looking startled. “That’s- why is that awesome?”

“It’s a scent thing. You feel safer with more cultasi around you.” Scott seemed genuinely pleased. “Sorry, Derek. I thought you were just putting up with the scenting and didn’t want to scent back. I was trying to be cool for Stiles, so I didn’t mess it up for him. I didn’t realize-”

“That I’m an idiot?” his friend finished. He shook his head, amazed. “We really need to sit down and talk all this out sometime. For now, though-”

Derek scooted around until he could wedge himself between Laura and Daniel. Both immediately leaned into him with little hums of contentment. It should have been funny, given how much older the anthropologist was. Instead it just felt warm and safe and good.

“Okay, I am officially jealous.” Sam was joking, but there was a hurt edge to her voice. “Does this wear off?”

Scott fidgeted a little. “Kind of? Once he’s more settled, I’ll be more settled and you can touch more. But. Um. He might have… needs? Our kind really need to be touched, a lot, and if you keep scenting him he’ll get upset without your scent on his skin. If you’re not planning on staying with him it would be kinder to keep a distance.”

Daniel sat up, alarmed. “Sam and I have been friends for a long time. Jack and Teal’c, too. If this change means I can’t see them again-”

“No, hey, it’s okay, we can work something out,” Scott reassured him. “If it’s important to you, we’ll find a way. Maybe your friend Jack would like to move?”

“Not to Beacon,” Sam mused, thoughtful. “But maybe to Atlantis? They’re putting together a colony for the mainland. I’m senior enough that I could probably get assigned to the colony myself, and Teal’c can visit.”

The caless brightened. “A colony! Could I bring the rest of my cultas? Lydia is nearly done with her training and Kira…” His eyes went dreamy. “I can’t wait to see her. How long is the flight to Beacon?”

Daniel made a vague gesture, settling back against Derek’s shoulder. “Atlantis is eighteen days, so right around there, I’d imagine.”

Planning drained some of the awkwardness from the conversation. They kicked around ideas, trying to figure out how this new situation was going to work. By the time Sam left to talk to General Landry Scott had relaxed enough to let her hug Daniel (though Derek noticed he practically draped himself over the anthropologist afterwards). Both Daniel and Laura were nodding off again. Derek excused himself back to his room in a more optimistic frame of mind.

Maybe this was going to work out after all.

 

He should have learned by now not to make assumptions. Boarding the _Daedalus_ turned out to be a major production.

First there was the luggage. Laura's guilt had resulted in a full truckload of baby gear, enough that most of it had to be packed into cartons and palletized for transport. Colonel Caldwell wasn't pleased about the dent it put in his cargo bay. General Landry had to give him a direct order to find room, and even then he grumbled. 

Next came sleeping arrangements. Scott insisted that he needed two adjoining environmentally sealed rooms for Laura and Daniel, and they couldn’t be moved together or without him present.

“I’m getting itchy,” he told Colonel Caldwell. “I don’t really know when they’ll hit runarol- not with them already grown when they were bitten- but when they do it’s bad if they’re in the same place or can smell each other. We don’t know what their usions will be.”

He cut his eyes sideways when he said that. Derek knew what he wasn’t saying- that their reactions to Laura and Daniel during Stiles’ pregnancy probably told them what to expect. The colonel only nodded. “We can make some of the quarantine cells more comfortable. Those have their own bathrooms and two-stage doors for delivering meals.”

Laura was exceedingly upset to be locked in a cell the whole trip. “I can control myself,” she protested. “I’m like, the best werewolf ever.”

“You’re not a werewolf,” Scott growled. “Werewolves are Tau'ri monsters. You’re not a monster, and you won’t make friends on Beacon talking like that.”

His tone- or more likely, his scent- cowed Laura into sullen silence. Derek wanted to tease her, because watching his sister get taken down by a floppy-haired guy younger than her was hysterically funny.

Instead he kept Laura company while Scott escorted an amused Daniel Jackson to the ship. Scott hadn’t let her meet the triplets in person yet, so Derek passed the time by sharing some of the hundreds of pictures he’d taken.

“They’re seriously cute,” she said, staring at yet another picture of a furry pile huddled against Stiles. “Any luck on the name front?”

Her brother groaned. “Stiles keeps finding ones he likes, and the list is getting out of hand. He won’t cross any off. Here, look.” He pulled a spiral notebook from his cargo pocket. At least four pages were covered in baby names. “Yesterday he wanted _Star Wars_ names. This morning he watched _Transformers_ and I had to explain that real Tau’ri aren’t named Optimus Prime. He said it ‘sounded like a happy name’.”

Laura skimmed the notebook and snorted. “I thought you’d stop being anal when you had kids, but I guess not.”

“What’s wrong with my list?”

“It’s organized in sets of three.”

“There’s three of them, Laura. The names have to go together.”

“You have a rating system. With source icons.”

Derek tried to snatch the notebook back but missed. Laura was impossibly fast now; her hand snapped out of his reach before he’d even registered her moving. “If you’re just going to make fun of me-”

“I’m helping,” his sister announced. “Well, you can cross Han, Luke, and Leia right off. Han and Leia are married, that’s gross.”

“I _told_ him that!”

Laura kept reading. “Harriet, Ron, and Hermione- same problem. Diana, Carol, and Bruce… those aren’t even from the same universe.”

“Stiles is literally an alien, Laura, cut him some slack.”

“This is- oh my god, Larry, Curly, and Moe? Seriously?”

He crossed his arms defensively. “You shouldn’t laugh. Stiles thought Larry was a nickname for Laura and he was being sweet.”

She was nearly choking with laughter. “You cannot let that boy name your children, Derek. They’ll be laughingstocks on Atlantis.”

“There are plenty of normal names on that list.” Derek snatched it back while she was distracted. “Look, these are from authors on my Kindle. Mercy, Tavi, and Neil. Mercedes Lackey, Octavia Butler, and Neil Gaiman.”

“Neeeeerd.” Laura craned her neck to read with him. “All right, well, some of these are okay. Talia, Michael, and Claudia. Mom and Dad, plus... his mom?”

Her brother nodded. “I don’t really like that, though. They need their own names.”

Surprisingly, she seemed to agree. “Nice thought, not great. That rules out my suggestion of naming them after the SG-1 crew. Hmm… Artuk, Eretna and Karesi. Are those Beaconite names?”

“No, they’re from a ‘baby names of the world’ book I downloaded. He loves it.”

The door beeped, signaling Scott’s return. He looked edgy. “Derek, would you mind taking Stiles and the kits over after Laura is settled? I don’t like being so far from the new ones, not when they’re twitchy.”

His eyes were flickering red, which was probably not a great sign. Derek nodded readily. “I’ve got it. Let us know when to move.” He hugged his sister and ducked next door to get his family ready to move.

 

It took almost fifteen minutes before Sam radioed to give them the all clear. Derek tucked the triplets and Stiles into the same oversized picnic basket he’d used to smuggle them back on base. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was the best way he could think of to reach the safety of the _Daedalus_ without exposing the Beaconites.

A couple of armed guards wearing breath masks waited outside the room. “Ready, Dr. Hale?” the older, a sergeant, asked politely.

Derek glanced up the hall. “Uh, hi. I didn’t expect anyone.”

“We’re here to escort you to the _Daedalus_ ,” she told him. “Would you like help with your, um, picnic basket?”

He shook his head. “I’ve got it. Thanks.”

Derek privately thought an armed escort was overkill for a two-floor transfer. All they had to do was walk to the Gateroom and wait to beamed up. What could possible happen?

Speaking of things he should learn, asking questions like that should be at the top of the list. 

A little cluster of uniformed Russians was loitering around the elevator. His guards stopped, wary. “This elevator is a restricted area,” the sergeant told them, her voice muffled by the mask. “Gate personnel only.”

“No problem,” their leader said easily. He tapped his security badge. “We are going to Stargate for mission.” The elevator doors opened, and he made a polite bow. “After you. We are in no hurry.”

Derek was not excited about walking past them. “Neither are we,” he lied. “You were here first, go right ahead. I wouldn’t want you to miss your window.”

Was he imagining the man’s frown? He had to be, because the Russians merely shrugged and got on the elevator. When the doors closed behind them Derek checked the sergeant’s nametape. “Is there another route, Sergeant Conners?”

“There are stairs.” She pulled out her radio. “But there’s a faster way. The _Daedalus_ has alternate pickup coordinates on this level. Let’s go.”

He clutched the basket closer, following her through increasingly empty hallways and half-listening to Conners coordinate the change on the radio. It wasn’t until Stiles growled that Derek noticed something was wrong.

The sergeant wasn’t actually talking to anyone.

She was giving orders, yes, but the replies were all short and generic. “Yes, Sergeant.” “Affirmative.” “Use your best judgement.” When Derek heard that last one repeated he realized they were recordings that she was somehow activating.

He’d been so focused on the Russians that he didn’t think it was weird that guards would arrive without Scott or Sam saying anything. Come to think of it, the normal door guards hadn’t been outside when he left. This whole thing had been a setup. Probably the Russians had just been a convenient excuse. If they hadn’t been around here would have been some other reason for a detour.

Derek was the dumbest person on the planet, and now his family was in danger. Stiles growled a little louder.

“Do you hear something?” the soldier behind him asked. “Like an animal or something?"

“Probably your stomach,” Conners joked, checking door numbers. “It’s not too much further, Dr. Hale. We’ll have you heading back to Atlantis in no time.”

That- okay, that made zero sense. It sounded like these two didn’t know about Beacon or even Stiles, which was ridiculous. They were wearing breath masks. Why would they be wearing masks if not to guard against micret? Maybe they’d just taken the masks from the door guards to fit in?

Except- they could have taken the masks off if they weren’t needed. There had to be another reason these two felt the need for protection.

“There it is.” Conners sounded satisfied as she pointed to a door just down the hall. It stood open, a small glass window reflecting the trio as they approached.

Which is how Derek saw the second guard stealthily easing something from a pocket. A cylinder.

A gas canister.

They were going to gas Derek, plus Stiles and the kids (though they didn’t seem to know that). It was probably some kind of knockout gas or smoke grenade. Either would be completely unsafe for infants and could cause childhood asthma and brain injuries and maybe even-

The picnic basket lurched as Stiles launched himself out. He rebounded off the rear soldier, causing him to drop the canister, then sprinted back the way they’d come. Conners whipped around. “What the fu-”

With a small pop, the canister started gushing bluish-white gas. Both soldiers swore. Derek bear-hugged the basket to his chest and shoved past the sergeant to the first place he could think of.

The open room.

It was a risk- what if there was an accomplice waiting?- but the hallway was filling with gas and he didn’t have time to risk a locked door. Derek lunged inside and yanked the door behind him.

Like most doors in the SGC there was a deadbolt on the inside. He slid it home a split second before Conners slammed against it. It shook but held tight. The SGC had been invaded enough times that even closets, which this seemed to be, were reinforced enough for temporary safety.

Conners bashed her shoulder against the door again. Their faces were inches apart, separated only by the thick glass window. She glared in at him. “Give it up, Dr. Hale. That door might be strong, but it’s not airtight. The gas will get in there and you could overdose.”

That hit all of Derek’s panic buttons. Had she known it would? His paranoia was a running joke in the SGC, but he’d never expected it to be used as a weapon. “You’re bluffing. There can’t possibly be enough gas to fill the hallway and this room.”

“There will be when I tear out the seal from under this door and set off another grenade.”

She held up a second canister. The math on how fast the room could fill with a direct pipeline of gas wasn’t good. Derek tried not to look at the thin wisps of gas already making their way under the door.

“So what, I should just open up and come along quietly?” Derek asked, mostly stalling while looking around. This was a utility closet with a deep sink. He grabbed a fistful of utility towels and began wetting them. “You should run while you can. My friends aren’t going to be happy when they realize I’m missing.”

“Your friends are all on the _Daedalus_ already. No alarm has been raised. By the time they realize you’re missing you’ll be unconscious and we’ll be long gone.”

The knob jiggled slightly. One of them must be using his distraction to pick the lock. He threw a wet towel over the basket and grabbed the bolt before it could slide out. “Nice try.”

Conners adopted a concerned expression. “If you keep doing that our picks might break in the lock, and no one will be able to get in to help you when you pass out from the gas. You could asphyxiate in there.”

“Not likely. There’s an air vent.”

“Is there? Or did we pick a closet without a vent to keep the gas from being pulled out”

His anxiety ratcheted up another notch. Derek risked a quick glance around, but the room was filled to the ceiling with cleaning supplies. If there was a vent he couldn’t see it. His chest started to feel tight and hot- warning signs of a building panic attack. He bent over, feeling dizzy. Maybe that was the gas? Oh God, he was going to die right here in this closet without ever seeing his children’s human faces.

Wait. The children were still in here.

Derek forced his eyes open. There was more gas now, enough to be visible but not enough to smell yet. It hadn’t reached the basket. He pulled his shirt over his nose and took a slow measured breath. Conners was still talking behind him. She probably assumed he was having a panic attack and would let go of the knob any minute.

Normally, that would be a safe assumption. Not much could stop a panic attack once it was on its way, but with a surge of hope Derek realized that this could. _They_ could, these three little lives that were completely dependent on him keeping his shit together for another few minutes.

He could do this. Stiles was getting help. Another few minutes and _deus ex werewolf_ would take care of the problem for him if he could just hang on.

Derek dropped two of the remaining towels, toeing them into the door crack, and used the other to finish covering the basket. “I’m not coming out.”

“My employers don’t want to hurt you,” Conners said persuasively. “They just need you to activate a few devices for them, then they’ll let you go.”

“I have an IQ two points higher than Stephen Hawking. It’s frankly insulting that you think I’d believe that.”

The sergeant snarled. “Either open this door or-”

He never got to hear the other half of the ultimatum. Shots rang out behind Conners- three quick pops that hit hard. Her face went blank, then slid down the glass.

Outside Stiles was shouting. “We have to leave one alive for information!” He’d shifted back, then. Derek’s knees went weak, and he bent to scoop up the basket as someone screamed.

The Russian leader’s face appeared in the window, grinning. “There you are! Come, you are safe.”

“The gas-”

“Lasts only a minute,” the man reassured him. “I am breathing now, see?”

That much was true. Derek unlocked the door. It was barely open a crack when Stiles hurtled through, naked but for a Russian uniform top and splattered with blood. He flung himself at Derek. “Are you okay? Are they okay?”

“We’re fine,” his husband promised. He felt dizzy again, this time with relief. “We’re all okay.”

The tenass drew back enough to kiss him hard. “You’re an idiot. I was _trying_ to tell you but you had the stupid tablet in your pocket.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I should have seen.” Derek looked out at the Russian. He leaned against the doorway, watching with obviously amusement. “Thank you. I don’t know how you found us, but thank you so much.”

The man waved his hand dismissively. “I was thinking your guards, they were strange. Real ones would have known we had mission. I come back down to check and find your very pretty friend running for the elevator.”

Naked, of course. Stiles didn’t care, but Derek felt his cheeks burn with second-hand embarrassment. “Ah. Yes, see, that was because-”

“I was getting ready for a shower,” Stiles piped up. “I saw them pass in the hallway had to move. No time to change. Oh, uh, here’s your knife back. Thanks.”

The man plainly didn’t believe their story. He probably thought Stiles had been hiding naked for some sort of sex thing. Maybe tenassi pheromones were also playing a part in making him agreeable. Whatever the reason, he took the bloody knife Stiles held out without further questions. “If you wish to come out, I will take this last one upstairs and send down help. And maybe pants.”

Waiting in this room was probably a bad idea. Who knows what other surprises the kidnappers had set up in there? Derek toted the basket to a small bright conference room across the hall and set it on a table while their cheerful rescuer dragged the wounded soldier back towards the elevator. From the blood trail, it was possible the man wouldn’t actually make it upstairs. Stiles had done a serious number on him despite wanting him alive.

Derek couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Stiles stayed crouched over Conners’ body for a long moment. Much too long to still be checking for life signs. Concerned, Derek touched his shoulder. “Hey. It’s okay, we’re fine. We’re all fine.”

The tenass shook his head morosely. “It’s not fine. I had to shift back.”

“Really, I don’t think our new friend knows who you are. Your secret should still be safe.”

In the basket, the kits started squeaking. Derek rushed back into the room to flip the top open. All three were awake and active, tumbling clumsily over each other. “They seem all right,” he said in relief. “A little keyed up, but fine.”

Tears sprang to Stiles’ eyes. He came close enough to peer into the basket with an expression of looming dread. “Yeah, well, I shifted, didn’t I? Now that they can smell me they’ll go any minute.”

Any minute. Without names, which was literally the thing all the Beaconites had warned Derek against.

_Not on my watch_ , he thought a little wildly. He dug out his notepad and flipped it open. “Okay, it’s going to be okay. We’ve got a long list. Just tell me which names you like best and we’ll go with those.”

“I don’t know!” Stiles snapped. Fresh tears left streaks through the blood on his face. “I can’t remember any of them except the ones Laura was laughing at and she already thinks we’re a joke so we can’t use those, and the kits are going to be _cursed_ and I’m the _worst dad ever_!”

Distress rolled off him in waves. Derek thought quickly and tore out the pages of names, then folded them and began tearing more precisely. “Laura doesn’t think you’re a joke,” he said, trying to work fast despite the trembling in his hands. “Even if she did once, you can have the last laugh when she does the runarol thing. I’ll help you. And you’re the best dad, you just saved the kids' lives.”

“You saved them.”

“We both saved them,” Derek said firmly. “Which makes us both the best dads.” He gathered the paper strips in cupped hands, shook hard, and held them out. “Pick one.”

The tenass sniffled. “Is this a Tau’ri thing?”

“It’s a ‘we have less than a minute to name these kids before they’re cursed for life’ thing. You chose most of these names, and I trust you. So… just pick one.” Stiles licked his lips, unsure, but plucked a random strip of paper from the bunch. Derek sent up a short, desperate prayer it wasn’t the Stooges. Or the _Transformers_.

Or the pretty Arabic words Stiles loved that actually all translated to swear words.

Derek waited what felt like a lifetime before realizing his husband was still crying, harder now. Alarmed, he offered the leftover strips. “If you hate the names you can pull a new set.”

“I don’t hate them.” Stiles sniffled and held out the ragged paper. “These are ones you put in. I love them. I love you.”

Somehow he’d grabbed one of the few name sets that wasn’t a pop culture reference or a linguistic misunderstanding. They were just nice, fun names Derek had found in the baby names book and strung together because they sounded similar without being too matchy.

Maggi, Nikko, and Willa. Their children.

As if on cue the eldest kit stretched, and swelled, and lost her sparse fur. Suddenly a naked baby girl with a riot of dark curls and Derek’s hazel eyes was crowding against her siblings in the picnic basket. He lifted her out carefully, supporting her neck.

“Maggi.” Stiles’ voice was reverent. “She looks just like you. Like a girl you.”

The others were already twisting and growing. Derek set Maggi aside and grabbed the boy- Nikko- before he could squish the still-shifting baby girl. Nikko had dark eyes and hair, but Willa had somehow ended up as a blue-eyed blonde. Stiles laughed when he saw her. “My dad, probably,” he said, touching her wispy pale hair. “He’ll love it.”

Shifting seemed to exhaust the triplets. They lay panting, staring fuzzily up at their parents like they had no idea what had happened. Every one was absolutely perfect: ten fingers, ten toes, pink and healthy and unharmed by the day's excitement. Derek felt light-headed with love for them.

Of course, it could also be lingering effects from the knockout gas.

That was their official excuse when the rescue team arrived to find Derek passed out cold on the floor while Stiles laughed himself sick.

**Author's Note:**

> Derek and the triplets evade kidnappers and get trapped in a closet for several minutes. Some people die outside the door but it's not super graphic.


End file.
